


blue and red colors mixed together

by vestara



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vestara/pseuds/vestara





	

"Why is it suddenly purple?"

 

Sabine rolls her eyes. "It's lavender, idiot. It hasn't been purple in over a year."

 

Ezra shrugs in reply, and turns back to the console in front of him. Sabine continues toweling her hair off and turns up the airflow, dispersing the smell of dye.

 

She knows she's being unnecessarily sharp, but she also knows she could have gone into a _purple isn't a real color, the word you're thinking of is 'violet', I've told you this before_ tirade.

 

But still.

 

"Sorry. We can still do that off-black shade on you, if you want," she offers. The last time they talked about changing up his hair, neither of them had ever heard the word _Malachor_.

 

"Okay." It's not the reaction she wants. She wants to hear a wisecrack. She wants his blank face to break into a small smile.Instead, he just keeps staring at the screen, researching the new intel Hera received.  


 

///

 

"You still have purp-- you have _lavender_ dye all over your neck," Ezra wrinkles his nose in disgust a few hours later. He's wrapped in an old towel in the cramped bathroom Sabine shares with Hera, watching Sabine go through her prep work in the reflection in front of them.  


 

(He's not making any gross comments about being half-nude in front of her. He's not strutting around, or jokingly accusing Sabine of leering at him, or anything else she worried about in a situation like this. He swore and apologized when he forgot to lock the door and she walked in -- and it felt like the first genuine apology he'd ever given her.)

 

"Yeah, I did that on purpose," Sabine sections off the back of his head, keeping her expression perfectly neutral. "It's a temporary tattoo to match. Everyone on Mandalore does it. You.... hmm. I'm gonna give you a huge bantha tramp stamp. It's gonna look great."

 

She steals a quick glance over his head into the mirror. Ezra's eyes crinkle, and his chest exhales with one-fifth of a chuckle.

 

At least it's something.

 

"No, but seriously, today was my first time dyeing my hair by myself in five kriffing years, and--" she would smack herself in the forehead if not for the brush soaked in black hair dye grasped in her fingers. "And, um, it's.... I think we hit some turbulence when I was in here. But it's fine! It'll wash off."

 

(Kanan always applies Sabine's dye. Kanan is meticulous, and never strays from her hairline, and always follows her instructions about brush strokes and blending when she wants to mix colors. And she always shapes his eyebrows in return.)

 

She works in silence, only making eye contact with Ezra when she moves to the hair in front of his face.

 

"You're slow at this," Ezra complains.  


 

"Shut up. It's a process."

 

"I could help you next time, if you want," he says carefully after a beat. "With yours, I mean. Since Kanan can't anymore."

 

Sabine freezes mid-stroke. "Um, all right," she tries to hide her surprise at Ezra bringing up Kanan's injuries. "Thanks. That'd be nice. It probably won't be for a while, anyway. I'll show you what to do."

 

"No need," Ezra says. "Just from this, I learned everything I need to know. And I'm sure I'll be much better and faster than you are."

 

"I will pour this dye down your throat."

 

"Good. That way I can digest it and maybe it'll get into my pores and I'll just sweat it all out, and that way I'll have black hair some time this century--"

 

She slaps the bristles heavy with dye across his face. He shrieks and almost topples off the chair, grabbing onto the sink for support and knocking the mixing bowl onto a pile of Hera's dirty laundry.

 

"Look what you did!" Sabine gasps, quickly scanning the scene. "Ugh. At least you didn't get any on my stuff."

 

"Oh well. It's not like you're gonna need clothes anymore," Ezra says solemnly. "Hera is going to murder you."

 

"Yeah? Well, I'm taking you with me--"

 

A rap on the door. Hera's concerned voice as something shatters. Two teens yelling, "We're fine!" in unison before the fighting builds back up again.

 

And, they're fine.


End file.
